Goodbye My Lover
by kissables333
Summary: One-shot song fic. Companion to 'Almost Lover.'


Song: James Blunt - Goodbye My Lover

**A companion piece to 'Almost Lover,' another one-shot I have posted. **

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><p><em><strong>Did I disappoint you or let you down?<strong>_

_**Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?**_

He felt it was over before it even got a chance to begin. It had been ended for them before he even had a moment to say the words burning on the tip of his tongue. Over before he ever got enough of her.

Over, leaving her alone forever and him separated from her by the thin veil between life and death. Had he done something wrong? Had he committed some great cosmic crime that condemned him to be ripped away from her for all eternity?

He was fighting for _them_, fighting for their future; he wanted to make things safe for them and yet, he had only succeeded in ensuring that they had no future. It was over.

He had failed her; Fred was never surer of that fact than he was as he watched her live her life without him. They could have had everything; they could have been happy, but _he_ ruined it.

The passing time haunted him; he was left with nothing but his thoughts of her. Nothing but thoughts of what they could have had. With every passing moment, he became more angry with himself for making her feel so much pain.

He had never deserved her; it was the single truth he had forced himself to acknowledge. If he had deserved her, he would've fought harder to stay. He would not have let her go so easily.

_**'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,**_

He knew the instant he saw her; they had not even spoken two words to each other, but he knew deep down. And however cliché it was, he refused to stop believing that she was made for him.

Fred Weasley was eleven when he first laid eyes on Annie. It was like a vision that played in his mind. He was older, taller and standing at the alter staring at her as she approached. He could feel it in his gut: he was going to marry her. They belonged together, it was as simple as that. And the only thing that stood between them was himself.

He wasted so much time; time he could have spent falling more and more in love with her everyday. Fred had been scared; he was so sure of loving her as a first year that he could not bear the thought of her not returning the feeling. So he hid it away.

Adamantly, he pushed away paralyzing thoughts of her; he ignored the little whispering voice in his mind that insisted he make her his. It took six years of friendship—six years of cowardice—for him to see it.

_**Yes, I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.  
>So I took what's mine by eternal right.<br>Took your soul out into the night.**_

For six years, he wasted all the time in the world. He had been strictly her friend; he forced himself to avoid the tingling urge in his fingers every time their hands neared each other's. He pushed away the erratic thumping of his heart and he pretended he could not feel his palms sweat in her presence.

He ardently believed she was his soul mate; Annie had been made for him and he for her. No one else could ever compare; no one else ever would. Of this, he was convinced; and yet he still feared. Perhaps he feared getting everything he ever wanted.

It was not until the beginning of their sixth year that he peered into her eyes and saw _it_. It was pouring out of her eyes, screaming for him to take notice. It was the same look he knew he had in his eyes every time he looked at her.

She loved him. And that was all the assurance he needed. He hardly gave a second thought to swiping her into his arms and kissing her—trying to communicate years of silent yearning with the press of his lips against hers.

_**It may be over but it won't stop there,  
>I am here for you if you'd only care.<strong>_

Cold and dead, he yearned for her touch; he had begun to take it for granted. Fred had begun to believe that she would always be by his side, always within quick reach to steal a kiss or pull her tight to his side. Time and time again, he had kissed her as if they had all the time in the world; kissed her as if he would spend every day for the rest of his life kissing her. He kissed her in that way when he should have been holding her close and kissing her as if, every time, it would be their last.

Death could not negate love; if anything, death merely seared his feelings more deeply into his heart. Annie would forever be the love of his life and he would forever spend his days wishing he could have her again.

He feared the same was not true for Annie; she still lived and survived. Annie still lived out her life without him by her side and he feared the day she would move on from him and toss aside her memories of him.

The very idea of this killed him because he could never imagine loving anyone but Annie. She was the only one who could have ever ensnared his heart and attention. Annie was the one thing in the entire world he had always wanted.

_**You touched my heart, you touched my soul.  
>You changed my life and all my goals.<br>**_

It had been Annie who believed in him.

Annie whom he showed plans for new inventions and the store. Never did she discourage him; never did she tell him to stay in school and focus on getting a _real_ job. Annie believed in him and so he believed in himself and his brother.

Annie inspired him. He got his best ideas from her.

_Canary Creams _came about when she had muttered that he had nearly given her "a canary" once when he had startled her late at night. The _Daydream Charms_ had arisen from her love of daydreaming.

She had been the one to dream large for him. _She _had been the one to suggest that they open a store. She had been the one to insist that the twins could do it.

Annie never failed to believe in him.

_**And love is blind and that I knew when,  
>My heart was blinded by you.<strong>_

There was no one else in the world for him. No one at all.

He had known it forever. There was no one in the world who could measure up to Annie.

No one with her courage. No one who could inspire him like her.

She ruined all other girls for him. Annie was the ultimate; she was the funniest (even when she told lame jokes), she was the smartest (even though she had been hardly passing Potions). She was everything.

Fred had tunnel vision when he looked at her; he saw no one but her because no one else mattered.

Now, living from beyond the veil of life, living without her, all he must do to torture himself is close his eyes. If he closes his eyes, he can feel her lips on his as it felt the first time.

Fred can feel the warmth of her body as he held her in his arms and pressed his lips to her. He can feel the soft caress of her fingers as she kissed him back.

It was torturous to close his eyes.

Because it felt so real. He tricked himself in the moment it takes for him to blink; he tricks himself into believing that he is with her again.

But when he opens his eyes, he is alone and his heart still calls for her.

_**I've kissed your lips and held your head.  
>Shared your dreams and shared your bed.<br>I know you well, I know your smell.  
>I've been addicted to you.<br>**_

It is not just the memory of kisses that torment him. It is not just the remembrance of her lips pressing urgently in his.

He is bombarded with memories of her—and what he lost—all the time.

Numerous kisses: in his bed, in her bed, in an empty classroom, in his store's storage room.

The gentle grasp of her hand in his. The soft searching of her fingers as she ran them up and down his arm. Her head lying in his lap as she slumbered on the way home from Hogwarts. Gentle fingers carding through his hair. The soft scent of her hair as they lay napping in her bed, his arm thrown protectively over her waist.

Annie was his everything.

_**Goodbye my lover.  
>Goodbye my friend.<br>You have been the one.  
>You have been the one for me.<br>**_

The funeral had been unbearable. He could see the glinting of the metal on her finger as she trembled in the sunlight. Fred could not take seeing her tear-tracked face knowing he could never again wipe away the salty drops from her eyes.

She visited him often; each time just as unbearable. Unbearable because he was so close to her. So close he could reach out and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she did not feel it. Annie cried and whispered his name. She would ran her fingers across his gravestone, as she used to do to him, and he swore he could feel her warm touch.

The day it ended, the day of the battle, there had been a burning in his stomach. He felt unstable and unsettled; he felt as if he was on the cusp of losing everything he had ever wanted.

Fred held her tight and could not fight the inexplicable feeling that it was a goodbye. He could not shake the feeling that he could never have her in his grasp again. He had never wanted to hold her so close as he had in that moment.

_**I am a dreamer but when I wake,  
>You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.<br>And as you move on, remember me,  
>Remember us and all we used to be<strong>_

Fred was a dreamer; he always saw the possibility in everything. It was something Annie had always said she loved about him. But now, he does not sleep and he cannot dream.

But he can close his eyes, his whirling thoughts will slow, and he will feel nearly at peace. As it always is, the darkness behind his lids is filled with visions of her that come so easily. And he forgets that he is dead.

Some days, he cannot bear the thought of being away from her; so when she sleeps, he lies down beside her.

He "awakes" in the morning and he believes for a few glorious moments that he is breathing and living. Fred looks to Annie, lying on her side of the bed and calls to her, but she does not hear. And so he is dragged back through the veil as he realizes that he is dead.

Death has stolen his dreams from him. Death has stolen him from Annie.

_**I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.  
>I've watched you sleeping for a while.<strong>_

Fred had seen Annie cry before.

She had cried in their first year when she was stressed out about school. Cried in their fourth year, when her grandmother died. Cried in their fifth year when some worthless boy had cheated on her.

He had always thought there was nothing worse than seeing her cry. In their sixth year, he realized it was worse to see her crying _because _of him. In their sixth year, before the Yule Ball, he had been stupid and they had broken up. He had made her cry.

And he made her cry again—over his dead body, at his funeral, at his grave.

All other times she had cried, he had been able to get her to stop. He had been able to say the right words or crack the right joke to get her to smile at him.

But now he could not. He could not pull her comfortingly into his arms and he could not wipe her tears. Death tortured him.

_**I'd be the father of your child.  
>I'd spend a lifetime with you.<strong>_

And he torments himself. Fred plays the vision over and over in his head. Exactly how he imagined it in his first year when he first saw her.

They were married, happily. In a home as cozy as the Burrow but that his—their—children never wanted for clothing without holes and didn't have to wear second-hand robes that were inches too short.

_Their _children. Children to love with Annie. Children to raise with Annie. Children to drop of at King's Cross with Annie. Children to watch grow old.

_**I know your fears and you know mine.**_

He knew everything about her. He knew what she feared, what she wanted, what kind of person she wanted to be. He knew her like the back of his hand. And yet everyday she had surprised him.

_**We've had our doubts but now we're fine,**_

Everyone at Hogwarts saw how they acted with one another. Saw how much they were in love at such a young age. And many of their fellow students thought their relationship had burned too brightly too quickly.

Whispers followed them around, saying they would never last. Finally, it got to them. It gave them both doubts. Fred never stopped believing they belonged together, but he began to think that maybe it had been _too fast_. She was feeling nervous, nervous that it would end.

They both had doubts. Both had fears of their end. And their doubts just led them to fight, which led them to break up three weeks before the Yule Ball.

They were both broken-hearted over it, but neither could face the other. They avoided each other in corridors, in classrooms, in the Great Hall, in the common room. They did not speak for three weeks.

Annie took some Durmstrang student and Fred asked Angelina. It was an excruciating night. Annie looked beautiful, so beautiful that he could hardly keep his eyes off of her. He burned at the sight of Annie's date dancing with her, holding her. Dancing with Angelina felt wrong to him.

Luckily, Angelina knew it and she told him to go and get Annie back. So he did.

Fred pulled Annie away from her date and out of the Hall, despearate to explain himself. Because he pushed away all of his doubts; he pushed away the whispers because he loved her.

"Annie." He murmured as they stood in the first empty classroom he had come ask. "I'm so—"

"I shouldn't have listened to what they were saying, Fred!" she cried as she threw herself into his arms. "I shouldn't have listened to a word. Because—"

"Because they're wrong. They don't know us, Annie. And I shouldn't have let them get to me."

"I'm in love with you, Fred."

_**And I love you, I swear that's true.  
>I cannot live without you.<br>**_

Annie was his life. Day-in, day-out. Annie mattered the most to him. When they were apart, he could hardly sit still. He waited anxiously for word of her safety, waited anxiously to see her again.

Fred always swore he would die for her because he knew he could not survive if something ever happened to her.

_**Goodbye my lover.  
>Goodbye my friend.<br>You have been the one.  
>You have been the one for me.<br>**_

He could feel it. And by the look on her face, she knew it too. Neither wanted to it admit it. Neither wanted it to happen, but both were filled the greatest feeling of dread.

He knew it was over. Knew his time with her was ending, but he could not do anything to stop it. He could only battle hard and bravely and hope that she stayed safe.

_**And I still hold your hand in mine.  
>In mine when I'm asleep.<br>And I will bear my soul in time,  
>When I'm kneeling at your feet.<strong>_

The times he lies next to her as she sleeps, he swears he can almost feel the heat radiating off her slumbering form.

She sleeps diligently on her side of the bed. At first, he thought that perhaps she expected for it all to be a dream and that she would awake to find him sleeping next to her. Or maybe, he figured, she couldn't bear to erase his place in her life.

Sometimes, in her sleep, her palm will fall open, as if inviting his grasps. When that happens, he simply closes his eyes and pretends he can still hold her hand.

Fred cannot wait for the time, years from now, when he can hold her in his arms again. But for now he can only live a half-life waiting for each year to trickle slowly by until the time he can finally be with her again.

_**Goodbye my lover.  
>Goodbye my friend.<br>You have been the one.  
>You have been the one for me.<strong>_

It didn't hurt like he thought it would. Dying, that is. He hardly had time to realize what was happening. Hardly had time to think about pain or to feel it.

One moment, he was laughing at Percy for finally cracking a joke and the next he was dead. Flat on his back, covered in dust, eyes wide open.

He didn't have time to register any pain. But he had time to think of all the things he never said to Annie. He had enough time for the image of that ring on her finger to flash through his mind as a sign of a promise he could never fulfill. He had enough time to think about how he never got to say goodbye.

_**I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.  
>I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.<strong>_

Whether he was dead or alive, Fred Weasley was nothing without Annie.


End file.
